


forbidden

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fantasy, Mentor/Protégé, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Sexual Fantasy, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Charles cannot allow himself to act on or reveal any of the things he sometimes thinks about Jean.





	forbidden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2017) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Charles tells himself that he isn't drawn to Jean. Jean tells herself she isn't drawn to Charles. Neither of them are telling the truth.
> 
> (feel free to leave this as UST or have them realising their feelings, whatever you'd prefer)
> 
> DNWs - I don't mind a little mention of past Charles/Erik but keep it very little. No Modern AUs, no depowered AUs please!

Raven liked to tease Charles that Jean was his favorite, the teacher’s pet. As usual with Raven, she could cut right through to the heart of the matter, but at the same time, she didn’t know as much as she thought she did.

He thought of Jean as a star—a brilliant, flaming star, deep in the heart of the universe, blazing so hot its red fires burned white and pure. He pictured her that way, in his mind’s eye—alone, apart from the rest, millions of miles between her and anyone else. No matter who he saw her with, she never seemed to be with them. Not to him.

He knew from the start that she was different from the other mutants, the most powerful and with the most potential he’d seen in a very long while. At the same time, she was more like him than anyone else. Her powers had been birthed from trauma—she’d felt her best friend dying. Who else besides Charles could understand, truly understand, what that had been like? And yet imagine such pain being compounded by how it might take you over and cause you to harm those around you, to destroy things, by accident. 

And, too, she could understand the immense power at one’s disposal—the power to change minds, to misuse what one learned from them, to make them do anything one wanted, the very things everyone else feared them for—and the incredible control required to keep that temptation at bay. No one else could truly know that.

So he’d taken a paternal interest in her at first. She grew, coming out of her shell, revealing the sharp wit and volatile temper just under the deceptively calm surface. At times she’d shoot him amused looks, and she felt a little more like a sister then. 

But she was older now, and his awareness of her had a new edge that was decidedly not paternal or fraternal. 

He was careful to douse this feeling in himself whenever it crept to his attention. It wasn’t appropriate, even if she was over eighteen. Not only was she a student, she’d saved his life, and she was a vital part of the X-Men. Then, of course, there was her involvement with Scott. Charles didn’t pry into that at all. It wasn’t his business. Students expected privacy at school, even from telepaths. Maybe especially from telepaths. And he mustn’t do anything to violate their trust. If he did sometimes wonder how responsive Jean was, what sounds she made, and most importantly what it would be like having sex with another telepath, none of those things were what he wanted to dwell on at all, except very late at night. He’d never had a lover who truly understood and accepted his telepathy, not in the way only another telepath could. The mind games she could play with him; not to mention the ability to move anything she wanted. 

She could do whatever she liked to him.

 _She’s not going to_ , he reminded himself. _She’s not going to do anything to or with you like that and you really must remember that, Charles…._

And she wouldn’t be interested in any of that at all, anyway, would she? Whatever Charles’ vanity said, in Jean’s eyes he must seem very old indeed. Even if his mutant gene meant he didn’t appear to age as much as he might have otherwise. 

He had to be imagining it, it had to be his ego that told him that at times her gaze lingered on him before she looked down and away, blushing slightly; he knew he was thought to be handsome, even if he didn’t know how she thought, even if she might consider him old. He had to be imagining it if she seemed to get heavy lidded, lips parting a bit, when she listened to him talk at length. Others had just told him they liked to hear him speak and he was projecting it onto her, that was all. He did know that she was aware of what they had in common and how set apart from others they both were; they had definitely bonded over that before, had knowing looks pass between them at times. 

But he didn’t dare look into her mind to see what she thought of him, not in that way. The odds were far too good that she would know. And if she disapproved—which was highly likely—she could destroy his mansion. And his mind.

Deep inside his shields, however, at times, he let himself linger on her. Imagine her in her bed, delicate fingers sliding down her naked skin under the sheets, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples. Sliding down the soft, slight curves of her stomach, to between her legs where she was wet thinking of him. Wet for him.... Could let himself imagine joining her and being enthusiastically welcomed (at times he pictured himself as he was now, defter and more skilled with his hands and mouth than he’d been before Cuba; other times, he was a much younger man, fucking her with abandon as her long legs wrapped around his hips and she scraped her nails over his back. Each vision had its merits.) with her thoughts pouring into his mind, as only a telepath could do. He could almost sense her gratitude, her joy, at coupling with someone so much like herself in this way, their ability making them extraordinarily intimate with others whilst paradoxically setting them inexorably apart. 

Because at the core of it, Jean, his shining star, shone alone, and although she was less lonely now here at the school, even other mutants had their ways of reminding her she was different. Hence, she was guarded. Her powers had come upon her in mourning, grief at being left by someone she’d held dear, in addition to the horror of feeling that someone leave her forever. A singular pain. She was alone, and he wondered whether, like himself, she longed for true connection….

Yes, he knew, he _knew_ this possibility hung tantalizingly over them. But was it responsible? Was it right? No. 

He had to keep his thoughts under control, under wraps, and he could only allow himself to savor the occasional smile from her, the times she held his gaze and the times she met it and quickly looked away. His star. He couldn’t sully her with his base urges and desires. Not when he knew better. Not even when a voice whispered that maybe she would welcome it after all, that maybe she felt the same way and was just waiting for him to make his move….

No. He would not allow himself to do anything of the sort, to even let slip that he considered it at all. His time for that sort of youthful indiscretion was over. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d denied himself things for the greater good, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I could only get Jean's POV through Charles in this, and he ended up less in outright denial and more telling himself it's wrong to act on anything, but I hope it still meets the spirit of your prompt!


End file.
